Everything I expected about probably giving birth after our tenth full moon is still up in the air, turned on its head; I might be birthing this baby any day, or next week, the predictability (for me) of going overdue and birthing practically on my own are really the tiniest of outside chances.
Baby is so active and happy. I am still feeling relaxed about whatever happens. I just wish I knew now, wish I could tell. Will my expanding curve of belly have carried that placenta far enough? Will this baby turn now? (I have felt it try several times, but it seems to get its legs wedged and then give up!) Will I come away next week with a date to have this baby in my arms, or more wait-and-see? (As much as I would prefer the freedom to go back to wait-and-see, I dread most of all an ambiguous situation in which I'm advocating for a different approach to the hospital and nobody knows for certain which would be best.)
I am as tired and uncomfortable as is usual for this stage. Somehow I have gone from feeling barely pregnant to being well aware of how big I suddenly am and how the baby is inclined to prop itself with an elbow or sit itself on my bladder! Oh precious little one, keep wriggling and getting fatter, grow strong and healthy. Be ready, when we meet, be ready.
This week is dragging by.